The Cold
by 0074
Summary: Set a couple of weeks after the end of 9.8. Barefoot, Harry shuffled into the bathroom and leaned on the basin for a moment. Lifting his head to look in the mirror, he saw a pair of bloodshot eyes and a face rough with stubble.
1. Chapter 1

**Set a couple of weeks after the end of 9.8 as the enquiry into Harry and his career begins, and his past is revisited. Some drama, some angst, and a bit of lighter stuff. **

**After the first chapter, this is likely to end up being dialogue heavy, but it's kind of necessary for the story. Imagine it on screen and it will make most sense. It may or may not be what people expect, but it's my interpretation of what could happen. The first paragraph is a quote from the end of 9.8 (the Home Secretary to Harry).  
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**I look forward to hearing your thoughts.**

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"_Look, Harry, I have some bad news. I'm sorry to heap it on, especially after this business with your Section Chief. But the buzzards are circling. Fake or not, Albany was a state secret, and you gave it away. There's going to be a full enquiry, and not just into this sorry affair … into you, Harry, your whole career. You're the spy they want to kick back out into the cold, I'm afraid. Now, I'll be in there batting for you, but I can't see this ending well. I'd start preparing for life after MI5. I'm truly sorry ... Good night." _

* * *

Barefoot, Harry shuffled into the bathroom and leaned on the basin for a moment. Lifting his head to look in the mirror, he saw a pair of bloodshot eyes and a face rough with stubble. It was a face of defeat, and although he'd intended shaving and brushing his teeth, he was hit with a bout of indecision. Turning and heading for the door, Harry was suddenly overwhelmed with panic and went weak at the knees. He reached for the wall to steady himself, then slid to the floor trembling, raising his knees to his chest, holding his head in his hands.

It wasn't the lack of sleep over the last few days, nor the glasses of whiskey he'd consumed. It was pure anxiety. A panic attack. It was unexpected and confusing, and Harry was frightened by the intensity of emotions that washed over him, then disappeared as quickly as they'd begun. It was too much. He wasn't sure he could do this anymore, but he wasn't sure he knew how to live a life outside MI5 either.

Harry sat on the cold tiles for a few minutes, at first trying to calm down, then to motivate himself. When he was certain his legs were capable of holding him upright, he grabbed the edge of the basin, pulled himself up, and reached for his razor.

* * *

Two hours later, Harry sat in a corridor at Whitehall, dressed in an immaculate charcoal grey suit and navy Gucci tie. He had no real expectations. None except being found guilty. It was practically a foregone conclusion. What happened afterward, he had no idea. Suspension or demotion? Probably. Prison? Possibly. A slap on the wrist? Not likely.

He was surprised they hadn't already suspended him. They'd moved quickly enough to start the enquiry, and Harry knew Internal Affairs would have gone over his personnel file and case files with a fine tooth-comb. They would have prepared a list of people to be interviewed and operations to review. A long list.

The Home Secretary had referred to the situation in their regular meetings, he could hardly ignore it, but it had only been in general terms. He'd also advised Harry to avoid discussing with his team, anything even remotely related to the whole affair: _You're fortunate to be allowed to carry on as it is. I don't want to give the hounds baying for your blood, any reason to ramp up their campaign. And I don't want to hear anything that will make me regret sticking up for you._

Most of the conversations with Towers started with mundane updates on standard operations, and ended with Towers reassuring Harry that he was doing what he could to see he was given a fighting chance. Apparently he'd succeeded in making sure the investigation panel didn't include Richard Dalby or any of his cronies, but there had been plenty of argy-bargy over it.

All of MI5 was aware of the enquiry. MI6 too, he was sure. And the grid was immersed in nervous activity. Having the prospect of an enquiry hanging over their heads brought an interminable level of uncertainty to bear, and the team had spent almost two weeks clouded by the knowledge that not only was Lucas dead, but Harry, their commanding officer, had acted completely out of character and surrendered a state secret. No one was telling them much of anything else, and they were loathe to try speaking to Harry about it.

Ruth felt caught between a rock and a hard place. She knew she was the reason Harry had surrendered Albany, but since Lucas' death, both of them had managed to avoid any kind of conversation about it. Dimitri and Tariq were doing their best to pretend nothing extraordinary had happened, while Beth had made several unsuccessful attempts to talk to Ruth, who refused to be drawn into any kind of discussion.

For all intents and purposes, since Lucas and Albany, Harry and the rest of Section D had, unusually, been left to carry on as per normal. Surprisingly, Alec had remained with them and was putting on a reasonable show of leadership, even acting a little like a Section Chief. Then just before lunch on Friday, Harry had received a phone call:_ Sir Harry? You're expected at Whitehall at nine sharp on Monday morning. You are entitled to bring legal representation should you wish to._

Harry didn't wish. He informed the team that he would be unavailable on Monday, and probably for longer, but didn't say why. They didn't ask any questions, but there was whispering, and guarded looks flew around the grid. At one point Ruth did try to talk to Harry, but he avoided her, locking himself in his office with Tariq to have him explain the maze of new IT protocols. Late in the afternoon, Harry tidied his desk and left early.

Now it was Monday morning and he sat awaiting his fate.

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**To be continued** :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Most events mentioned here and in future chapters are referred to either on screen, or in **_**Harry's Diary**_**, but some I've made up.**

**And so it begins … **

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"We are here today for the enquiry into the career of Sir Harry Pearce, in particular the recent events involving Albany and the officer known as Lucas North. I would like to remind everyone that all proceedings are being recorded. Present are myself, Martin Cuthbert, as well as Samuel Easton, Patrick Ward-Stephens, Jacinta Lacey, and Edmund Barclay. Also present is Sir Harry Pearce."

It was a closed hearing, with just a few authorised observers. Harry sat facing the panel of five who were seated behind a large table. He knew all of them, and had encountered two under less than auspicious circumstances. He was under no illusions. Each brought to the table many years experience in either politics or the security services, and they would be looking closely at everything.

Patrick Ward-Stephens from MI6 had always had a bone to pick with Harry. They were polar opposites and had clashed on everything from dealing with conspiracy theorists, and security at home and abroad, to the state of Anglo-American relations. Sam Easton had once been associated with Oliver Mace, and was as slimy as they came. After Mace's fall from grace, Easton had found his way to the Home Office and made his way up the ladder. Harry didn't trust him at all. Both Patrick and Sam would gladly see Harry go down in flames.

Edmund Barclay was an old-school spook who had worked for both MI5 and MI6 and understood the need for operating outside the system from time to time. Harry had known Edmund for years and usually knew where he stood with him. Jacinta Lacey, on the other hand, was somewhat of an unknown quantity. The handful of times Harry had met her, he'd found her charming, but aloof, and her reputation was one of being meticulous. She was Head of Internal Affairs and brought extensive legal expertise with her.

The chair of the panel, Martin Cuthbert, was with the Ministry of Defence and a well-respected member of the JIC. Harry suspected he would be a formidable chairperson, but also knew him to be fair, so was grateful for small mercies.

"Sir Harry, you are here to answer questions with regard to your actions. You are not under oath, however you are entitled to legal representation. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Harry cleared his throat. "Yes, I do."

"And do you wish to take advantage of such representation?"

"No, thank you."

"You're certain?"

"Yes. Perfectly."

"Very well. We shall begin. Would you please start by confirming for us, when and how you began your career with MI5?"

* * *

At midday, Harry was relieved to be excused while the panel took a lunch break. Three hours of almost non-stop questioning had been more draining than he'd expected, and they'd only covered his first two years with MI5. He knew it was merely the beginning.

Harry escaped the building and headed for the river, craving fresh air. On the way he stopped at a cafe tucked away between two large office buildings, and bought a strong black coffee and salad sandwich. He wasn't very hungry, but a weekend of little to eat had caught up with him, and he felt his body needed sustenance if he was to maintain his strength throughout the afternoon.

The sun was shining and there were people everywhere, enjoying the mild weather. Tourists carrying backpacks mixed with civil servants, some strolling, others striding purposefully. Harry tuned them out, lost in his thoughts. Negotiating the throngs, he spotted an empty bench and sat down, pulling the sandwich from a paper bag and taking a large bite.

He hadn't enjoyed reliving his time in Northern Ireland. It was never something he liked to talk about, and he'd tried hard to put it out of his mind. It always brought an uneasy, queasy feeling to the pit of his stomach. Dredging up the memories was painful, and unfortunately, even without the official records, there were people who knew he had regrets. Patrick Ward-Stephens had been quick to suggest Harry had completely cocked up and been responsible for Bill Crombie's death.

"So, you're telling us, that at no time did you consider blowing your cover to save a fellow officer?"

"No, that's not what I mean. It wasn't an easy decision, not an easy decision at all. I had to choose between saving my best friend or compromising a network of valuable agents. Agents who could have an enormous impact on peace in Northern Ireland. Of course I considered it. But there was nothing I could do. I had to make a snap decision, and I made it. But it cost my friend his life."

"Your friend and colleague was dragged away to a certain death and you did nothing?"

"That's correct."

"How did that make you feel?"

"How did it make me feel? I felt guilty." _I still do._

Harry knew what they were doing. They were demonstrating that he had abandoned a colleague in need before. They were asking him what it was that made the Albany situation any different.

* * *

As she left Thames House on a mission to collect a report on the sly from one of her contacts, Ruth was caught at security by Harry's driver, Jeffrey.

"Is Sir Harry alright, miss?"

"What do you mean? Didn't you see him this morning?"

"No, miss. I haven't seen him since last week. Told me on Friday evening he probably wouldn't need me for a while, but would call if anything changed. I know things have been difficult, and I just wondered …"

Ruth's eyes widened as her brain computed the implication of what Jeffrey had said. _It's started. It's started, and Harry hasn't told anyone. Stupid, stubborn, bloody fool_.

"I'm sure he's fine." Ruth told Jeffrey with a smile. "It's all about to come to a head, and he probably just wants some space."

* * *

The afternoon session was no better. This time Harry found himself subjected to questions about his secondment to MI6, specifically his time in Cologne.

"What can you tell us about Operation Omega."

He'd wondered if they would broach that subject. It hadn't taken them long.

"Omega was a black op. It was intended to draw attention to the Red Army Faction, a left-wing militant group, and provoke the German authorities into cracking down on them. The operation was carried out with the full knowledge of the Director of MI6. You won't find any official record of that though."

"What was your role?"

"I was the only MI6 officer in Cologne, and I was the sole operative for Omega."

"Which means?"

"Which means I stirred up tension between the right and left in Cologne. I wrote articles for the far-right newsletter, and I worked with British Army explosive experts in a low-level bombing campaign against soft targets in Cologne, making sure the blame was pinned on the left-wing extreme militants. I also stage-managed a failed assassination attempt on the Commander of NATO forces."

There were raised eyebrows all around at that. Despite knowing of Omega's existence, they clearly hadn't much idea what it had actually involved. Harry felt a glow of satisfaction.

"And who knew about the operation?"

"Officially, just myself. Unofficially, the Director of Six and the three soldiers. It was a fairly short-lived operation though, and there was never an official debriefing."

"What about Juliet Shaw?" Jacinta Lacey asked, taking over the questioning. "Your file shows that you were disciplined for an inappropriate relationship with her during your time in Europe. Would you like to comment on that?"

"I was stupid enough to get involved with a fellow officer." Harry's face coloured a little. "It didn't last long, and the affair contributed to the breakdown of my marriage. It was a long time ago, and I regret it more than I can possibly say, but it happened, and there's nothing I can do to change it now."

"Juliet Shaw was later implicated as a leader of the Yalta group. You knew nothing about her involvement with them?"

"Juliet was always driven and bent on power plays. She's rabidly ambitious, but no, I had no idea."

"What do you think that says about your ability to judge character?"

"I long ago ceased to have anything other than a professional relationship with Juliet Shaw, so I hardly think her involvement in Yalta reflects on my abilities. I think my judgment is very good."

They decided to move on, and the questions continued on a different tack.

* * *

Before he was dismissed for the day, Harry was instructed not to return to the grid for the duration of the enquiry.

"It's only your track record until now, and the sorry lack of personnel in Section D, that has allowed you to remain on duty till today. That and the support of the Home Secretary. However, now that we've begun official proceedings, I am directing you to stay away from Thames House until the enquiry has concluded. And you're not to contact anyone at Section D. Is that clear?"

"Of course." _What do you think I am? Stupid? _"Has my team been informed?"

"They were notified this afternoon. They've also been told they should not contact you. If they do," Martin Cuthbert said brusquely, "They'll be jeopardising your career, as well as their own."

"I'm sure they understand."

"Well," He paused and looked at Harry sternly, "I hope for your sake they do."

Harry escaped Whitehall, and having chosen not to avail himself of his driver's availability, he took a walk along the river, the deep orange sun getting lower in the sky. At Temple he boarded the tube for a crowded, but thankfully short journey surrounded by the commuters he was usually able to avoid. And as soon as he reached home, he kicked off his shoes and flopped down on the sofa. Scarlet leapt up and curled beside him, sensing his need for comfort.

His mind wandered to that morning, and the memory of his legs shaking and the cold sweat. He'd had a panic attack twice before, though not for a long time. The first was not long after he was posted to Northern Ireland and had a close call with a bomb. He was engulfed with palpitations, nausea, trembling, and the kind of sweat that soaked a shirt in seconds. The second was on a short-term secondment to Six. It was the eve of a particularly dangerous undercover operation with a high risk of being discovered. He spent five minutes curled in a corner crying and panicking that if it went wrong, he could die and never see his children again. Five hours later he was on a plane headed for the Middle East, masquerading as an arms dealer on his way to negotiate on behalf of a fictitious terrorist group.

When Harry let himself remember, he fell into a sea of emotion so vivid he felt he might drown in it. So he closed his eyes, trying to dismiss the memories, and day-dreamed of exploring Paris, Rome and Athens.

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**To be continued.**

**Thank you for all the reviews so far, and extra thanks to one particular person (you know who you are) who read a bit of this chapter to help me work out if I was on the right track. **


	3. Chapter 3

A loud rapping on the door roused Harry from a troubled sleep. He was still on the sofa, one arm flung above his head, the other hanging loosely by his side. Momentary disorientation was followed by a sigh as he slid his legs to the floor and rubbed his eyes.

Harry opened the door, and seeing a determined Ruth, took a deep breath to tamp down his frustration. He knew exactly what she was here for. "We're not having this conversation, Ruth."

"Harry …"

"No, I mean it. I'm not doing this."

"You can't just shut everyone out."

"I'm not." She gave him a look. "I'm _not_, Ruth."

"Why didn't you say anything about the enquiry? Pretending nothing was wrong ... you didn't even tell us it was starting."

"Everyone was going to know soon enough. You're all bound to be called to answer questions."

"Exactly. That's the point. You're not the only one involved in this, Harry. Don't you think it would have been nice to -"

"_Nice?_ Nice to what? Sit down and have a chat about what a terrible waste it is that a good officer turned bad and jumped to his death from a tall building? Or nice to discuss whether or not I'll be celebrating my next birthday at Her Majesty's pleasure?"

"Harry, you're not being fair."

"It isn't about being fair. I told you, Ruth, I'm not doing this. It will be better if you can truthfully say you haven't discussed any of it with me." He gave her an intense glare. "Now, it's late. I've had a long day, and tomorrow isn't likely to be any different. If you don't mind, I'd like to try and get some sleep."

They hadn't moved far into the hallway, and he took a few steps around her and opened the door wide. Ruth hesitated, huffing slightly, trying to decide whether she should say anything else. Common sense, or survival, or something, kicked in, and she walked outside.

When she didn't hear the door immediately close behind her, she looked back at him from the middle of path. Harry held her gaze for a moment, then his eyes flicked away and he pushed the door firmly shut. Ruth sighed and headed for her car.

* * *

On Tuesday morning, while Harry again waited in the corridor at Whitehall, Internal Affairs were taking up residence on the grid. Commandeering the meeting room, their plan for the day was to interview the officers of Section D, and their notes would inform the panel's questions for Harry.

The senior officer, who didn't even bother to introduce himself, started by pointing at Beth, "You first," and marched toward the meeting room.

Beth wasn't impressed, but followed him and took a seat. It didn't take long for her to get even more fed up with their attitude.

"I don't think you have any right come in here and -"

"We have every right. Harry Pearce is under investigation, and by implication, so are you and the whole of Section D." His face was stony as he stared her down. "Internal Affairs is authorised to do whatever is necessary to get to the bottom of this. We will ask you questions, and you will answer them. Is that clear?"

She nodded mutinously. "Am I allowed to know who you are? Your name?"

He didn't answer immediately, but finally said, "Owen Campbell." His eyes narrowed slightly. "And _you_ are Beth Bailey. Applied for the Security Services at eighteen, and completed training. Very capable, overly so, but considered too immature and volatile, and unable to to do as you were told."

Beth sat and smouldered, but said nothing. Neither did Campbell, who was watching her closely. The second officer, who remained nameless, spoke instead.

"You were a private contractor. A very successful one. Why did you ask to return to MI5?"

"Contracting is rewarding, lucrative, and I got to see the world, but it's not the same as helping to keep your country safe. MI5 reappeared in my life and I wanted a change, so it was good timing. And I'm not the same person I was ten years ago."

"Well, perhaps Harry Pearce agrees, since he was the one who fired you the first time around, and was also the one who re-hired you. Do you think he might have had an ulterior motive in doing so?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you think Harry remembered your _independent streak_, and thought it might be useful one day?"

"That's ridiculous. You're suggesting Harry hired me because my teenage reputation _might_ mean I would look the other way over something that _might_ occur in the future. Harry's not like that … and neither am I."

Campbell and his colleague looked at each other with slight smirks then moved on to quizzing Beth about recent operations. Eventually, after covering the ins and outs of Lucas' betrayal, they changed subject.

"You share a house with Ruth Evershed don't you?"

"Yes."

"And how's that?"

"How is it?"

"Yes. How does it work for you? For her? Any problems?"

"No. Why should there be?"

"Do you socialise with each other?"

"We share dinner sometimes, but mostly keep to ourselves. I mean, we work together, but we have different interests and neither of us have a lot of spare time, so we usually do our own thing."

"Have you ever seen or heard anything that might indicate there's more to her relationship with Harry than just work?"

"Oh, come on." Beth pulled a face.

"Have you?"

"Look, they're colleagues. People who've worked together for a long time. Ruth is one of the smartest people I've met and her place in the team is crucial. Sometimes she and Harry get on, and sometimes they don't. As far as I'm concerned they seem to spend most of the time arguing, or glaring at each other."

"No dates or late night phone calls?"

"Are you serious?"

Clearly not serious enough, Campbell decided they were getting no further with Beth. He told her she could leave, but not to to go anywhere because they might want her later.

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**To be continued (plenty more to come).**

**Thank you again for your reviews. I'm really pleased so many of you think this is realistic, because that's what I'm aiming for. I hope you'll continue to share your thoughts with me.**


	4. Chapter 4

Dimitri was next to face Internal Affairs. When he entered the room, Owen Campbell and his colleague, Jarrod Carmichael, looked very comfortable. Campbell dropped his hands from where they were clasped behind his head, and pointed Dimitri to a chair. Then he took a back seat, leaving Carmichael to start.

"So … Dimitri Levendis. Ex Special Boat Service with extensive combat experience. You were headhunted?"

"Yes."

"What made you accept?"

"I liked the idea of making a difference at home instead of overseas. It was a new challenge and I had something to offer."

"You worked closely with Lucas North. What kind of Section Chief was he?"

"Bit intense, but that goes with the job. My first real experience working with him was undercover. He was well prepared, and made sure I was too. He knew his stuff."

Carmichael asked more questions about Lucas and his approach to work, and Dimitri mostly kept his responses brief and broad in nature. He was well aware this was more about Harry than Lucas, and was on guard, waiting for them to try to catch him out saying something that could harm Harry's cause.

With a subtle look, Carmichael handed control of the interview over to Campbell who changed the direction of their questioning. "You were there when Lucas North took Ruth Evershed. What happened?"

"He used a decoy. While we pursued the man we thought was Lucas, the real Lucas located our surveillance van, knocked Tariq out, and abducted Ruth. His agreeing to meet us was just a distraction. By the time we realised, it was too late."

"And the decoy was dead?"

"Yes. SO19 were under orders not to let Lucas get away, so when he ran and wouldn't stop, they opened fire."

"Why do you think Lucas took Ruth instead of Tariq?"

"Why not?"

"But why not Tariq? They were both sitting ducks."

"Which one would you choose? Ruth's good, she's very good, but would you take a woman with minimal field experience, or a man who is young and fit and would probably have more chance of escaping?"

"He didn't put up much of a fight though did he? He didn't try to stop Lucas from taking Ruth."

"He wasn't given any chance to."

"Lucas didn't chose Ruth because she was the easy target. He chose her specifically. Why would he do that?"

"He wanted leverage."

"Leverage?"

"Something to get our attention. Nothing against Tariq, but Ruth is more fundamental to the team, and Lucas knew abducting her would have a more immediate affect. And he was right."

"What happened when Lucas demanded Albany in return for Ruth?"

"Harry knew where Albany was and Lucas had worked that out. There were others who knew where it was too, and Harry decided it needed to be moved so they weren't compromised like him. I didn't think it was a particularly good idea. I was worried it would put him under more pressure if Lucas found out, but Harry was determined."

"Harry tricked you though."

"I wouldn't put it that way."

"Really? How would you put it then?"

"Look, I had no idea what he was planning. I could tell something wasn't quite right though, that he had something else in mind. But Harry planned it that way to protect us because he didn't want us implicated in anything he did off the radar. He knew what he was doing and he had all the right intentions. In protecting Beth and I, _and_ in saving Ruth."

"Do you think he did the right thing?"

"It's not my call."

"If it was?"

"Maybe, but it's not my call, so it doesn't matter, does it?"

"You know, the members of this Section seem incredibly uncooperative."

"You think so? Perhaps you should be asking why that might be, rather than trying to pin some ridiculous charge on Harry."

"You think you're helping Harry, but you're not. This is happening whether you like it or not."

* * *

While his team were questioned, Harry spent the day as he had on Monday, with more trawling through his past.

"In 1991 you disobeyed your Section Head because you _thought_ someone _might_ be planning to bomb Whitehall. But it appeared no one else was aware of any such attempt, nor did they give it much credence when you raised it. Tell us what happened."

They knew very well what happened, it was all on record, but Harry had little choice but to humour them.

"I saw a van drive slowly past the Cabinet Office and the Ministry of Defence. I realised the number plate was blacked out and something about it felt wrong. My gut told me it was a trial run, but James Helme thought otherwise, told me I was being ridiculous. I couldn't let it go though so I followed it up. I trusted my instincts and they paid off."

"You averted an assassination, but to do so you went expressly against orders and played the Lone Ranger."

"Yes, and the Prime Minister and his Cabinet are still alive because I did. As I said, I trust my instincts, and sometimes needs must."

* * *

Beth had warned Tariq what to expect. When he entered the meeting room and sat down warily, Campbell closed a file and looked at him with a smile.

"Tariq. You joined Section D last year?"

"That's right."

"Recruited straight from university and fast-tracked through training. Reputation as a whiz kid. You're a clever boy."

Tariq knew they were trying to butter him up and had the good grace to blush.

"So, Tariq, you've been here longer than Dimitri and Beth. You're practically an old hand on the team. What's it like working for Sir Harry Pearce?"

"Harry's cool. He expects a lot, but that's because it's necessary, and he knows we're capable of it."

"So he's a good boss?"

"Yeah, definitely. I like him. He acts a bit too much like my dad sometimes though."

Campbell smiled again. "What about the others? Does he act like their father too?"

"I'd say so. Harry looks after his team."

"Including Ruth?"

"Yeah, of course. He keeps an eye on everyone."

"Tariq, what I want to know is whether the relationship between Harry and Ruth is more than just that of employer and employee? Is Harry more than Ruth's boss?"

"Oh."

"So?"

"Well, they seem to kind of … know what each other is thinking a lot. And yeah, a couple of times I thought there might have been something going on, but lately not so much. All I know is there's often a lot of tension."

"In what way?"

Tariq shrugged. "Just … tension."

* * *

Around four o'clock, Internal Affairs finished their interview with Tariq and decided they'd achieved enough for one day. Alec and Ruth were told they wouldn't be needed until later in the week.

Ruth had spent much of the day stewing over what they would ask her, and what she would say. Now she had to wait even longer to face them. She really wanted to talk to Harry, to see him, but knew he wouldn't thank her for it, not after yesterday. She didn't want to risk his wrath, nor that of the enquiry, but couldn't sit and do nothing.

* * *

That night when the doorbell rang, Harry was apprehensive that it would be Ruth again. Although he felt seeing her, even briefly, might remind him why he was doing this, he really did not want to talk, and didn't want another argument with her. When he opened the door, he saw his driver looking slightly sheepish.

"Jeffrey?"

"Sir Harry. I've, er, I've been asked to bring you this." He held out a plastic shopping bag which Harry accepted, cautiously opening it to peer inside.

"Goodnight, sir." Jeffrey said and started to walk back to his car. He was wary of potential fall-out, and didn't want to wait around.

"Oh, er, goodnight, Jeffrey. Thank you." Harry closed the door and walked down the hallway to the kitchen

He emptied the contents of the bag onto the bench. Inside were two large takeaway containers. They were very warm, and stuck to the top of the first was a folded piece of paper. He peeled it off, unfolding and reading it: _Please eat. You need to eat. _He shook his head in mild disbelief.

Lifting the lids of the containers, Harry saw, and smelt, roast beef with gravy, beans, carrots and Yorkshire pudding. His stomach squelched with delight, and he quickly sought out a knife and fork, sat down and started tucking in. He was hungry.

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**To be continued.**


	5. Chapter 5

Wednesday passed in a whirl and Harry barely had an opportunity to wonder how his team was coping. When the doorbell rang that evening, Jeffrey again stood there with a laden plastic bag. This time he was less sheepish, more apologetic.

Harry accepted the bag without comment and Jeffrey went on his way with a smile. There was a fragrant smell wafting from within the bag and Harry could tell what it was without lifting the lid off the container. Curry. _I could get used to this_. He located a fork and proceeded to demolish a large serving of Rogan Josh, complete with boiled rice and a fresh naan.

After dinner Harry spent a couple of hours watching England defeat South Africa in the rugby. Despite lazing in front of the television, when he made his way upstairs, sleep didn't come easily. He dreamed his family and friends were standing on top of a tall building. He'd had the same dream several times before. One by one they walked to the edge of the roof and looked back at him before silently stepping off. Harry couldn't move and called out to them, begging them to stop, but they didn't. When it was Ruth's turn, she stretched out her hand to him, but he could only watch and call her name as she disappeared from sight. He sat up with a jolt, disoriented and out of breath, then flopped back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling.

* * *

When Martin Cuthbert began Thursday morning with reference to Lucas, images from last night's dream filled Harry's head, and he closed his eyes briefly and swallowed. He'd taken the time to eat breakfast, but was now wishing he hadn't, as the toast and scrambled eggs threatened to reappear.

"Tell us about Lucas North. How did you meet him?"

"Lucas was recruited to MI5 in the mid-nineties. He applied directly to the Service and vetting raised no cause for concern. It wasn't until recently that I discovered the man we knew as Lucas North wasn't who he said he was."

"What about when he joined your team? You didn't notice anything unusual?"

The panel was watching Harry closely. His forehead wrinkled as he remembered his first meeting with Lucas who had walked onto the grid tall and oozing charisma in a modest way.

"Section D was in need of new blood and Lucas came along at the right time. His training assessments showed outstanding practical and intellectual scores and indicated he had the makings of an excellent officer. He was bright and enigmatic, and he exuded confidence and a sense he could do whatever you needed him to. He quickly became an integral member of the team, and his contribution to major operations like Exodus and Green Liberation was critical to their success."

"How did you miss the fact that Lucas North was actually John Bateman?"

"John Bateman slipped through the net. You can't lay the blame for that on me. Vetting for the real Lucas North had already been completed when Bateman took on his identity, and Bateman was a natural spy anyway. He was a man who might have been accepted into the Service in his own right had circumstances been different. As far as I'm concerned, it's a failing of the system, not an individual, and most certainly not me."

Sam Easton took over questioning and the look on his face said he knew Harry's temper was close to the surface.

"Lucas North isn't the only example of an officer turned bad. More than one of your team has gone off the rails. In fact the names make quite a list … Tom Quinn, Tessa Phillips, Connie James, and others. Perhaps your judgment isn't what it should be."

"My judgment is perfectly sound. No matter what recruitment strategies are used, the Service is open to failures, and you know it."

"But this isn't about one failure, it's about several, and responsibility for all of them can be laid squarely at your feet."

"I disagree. Tessa was a law unto herself long before she worked with me, and Tom Quinn was an outstanding officer, but he became disillusioned and burned out. It can happen to anyone." Harry's voice was getting louder. "When Lucas joined the team, there was absolutely nothing to indicate anything was amiss. He was the complete package and -"

"Yes, thank you, Sir Harry. I think we'll move on for now." Martin Cuthbert said firmly, and Harry wrenched his temper back under control. "How did you discover that Lucas North was actually John Bateman?"

"He was behaving unusually, erratically. I tasked one of the team with digging into it and they discovered a membership photo from a fitness club in Dakar. The name and face didn't match Lucas. The Lucas North working for MI5, that is."

"When did you confront him with the information?"

"Lucas, er John -"

Martin Cuthbert interrupted him. "I think that for the purposes of this enquiry, to minimise confusion, we will continue to refer to the man who worked for MI5 as Lucas. Go on."

Harry nodded and continued. "Lucas disappeared the morning we uncovered the photo, before we uncovered it, but we were able to locate him quickly and under interrogation he confessed."

"And what was your reaction when he told you what he'd done?"

"I was angry. Not only was someone I trusted a fraud, but he'd committed an act of terrorism against the country he proclaimed to serve. I felt betrayed."

"So why did you let him go? Why didn't you keep him in custody?"

"It was wasn't just about Lucas. He wasn't the only player, and he certainly wasn't the mastermind. Vaughn Edwards was still at large and I decided to use Lucas to lure Vaughn into the open."

"After everything you'd discovered, you trusted him?"

"Throughout his time with MI5, Lucas proved his loyalty over and over again. He spent eight years of his life in a Russian prison without giving up any secrets. _That_ was the man I knew and trusted. He freely admitted what he'd done in Dakar, and he was the only link we had to Vaughn. We needed to catch Vaughn quickly, before he got wind of what was going on and disappeared for good. Trusting Lucas was a risk, but I had to take it. That's my job."

"It most certainly was a risk, and one that backfired."

"Clearly." Harry's face was impassive, but inside he was was raging.

On and on it went, until Martin Cuthbert interrupted a rant by Patrick Ward-Stephens. "I think that's a suitable place to stop for now." He looked left, then right, seeking agreement from his fellow panel members. "We have someone else to speak to today, but we'll continue this discussion further tomorrow."

Harry had a feeling he was being kept hanging on purpose, but wasn't going to complain about being given a break. Leaving the room, he walked down the echoing corridor, and rounding the corner almost crashed into Malcolm.

"Harry!"

"Malcolm." Harry smiled, genuinely pleased to see him. "How are you?"

"Fine, fine. How, er, how are you? I'm sorry, stupid question." Malcolm felt extremely awkward. "I'm sorry, Harry, I wasn't given any choice about coming here."

"It's alright, Malcolm, it was bound to happen. You just say what you need to."

Malcolm nodded.

"You're a good man, Malcolm. You've always been a good friend and I don't think I've ever told you that. Thank you." Harry gave him another smile.

They chatted amicably for a few minutes, then Harry excused himself and Malcolm was left pondering Harry's uncharacteristic effusiveness.

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**More to come :) ****This bit was getting a bit long, so I thought it best to break it here. Really hope there's not too much exposition, but it feels necessary for the story.  
**

**Thank you to everyone for your lovely comments about the story so far. I really appreciate them.**

**Next up more Malcolm and Ruth.**


	6. Chapter 6

"Would you please state for the record your full name and rank?"

"My name is Malcolm Wynn-Jones. I'm retired, but until last year I was Senior Technician and Data Analyst for Section D at MI5."

"And how long did you work with Sir Harry Pearce?"

"I started work with Section D in January 1990. Harry was Senior Field Officer."

"How did you get on with him?"

"Me and Harry? Very well. In many ways, we're quite different, but we've always found common ground. I have no problem saying that Harry and I are friends."

"Have you ever had cause for concern at his methods? Did he ever do something you didn't agree with?"

"I've known Harry for twenty years. You don't work with someone for that long and not have disagreements, but Harry has always been frank about his approach and I respect him for that."

"You haven't actually answered the question. Have you ever been concerned about any of Sir Harry's methods or decisions?"

"No."

"Never?"

"Never."

The panel looked skeptical, but let it go. "What can you tell us about Albany?"

"Very little. Albany is classified top secret. Several years ago, I was briefed by Harry about its existence, but not much else. He tasked me with hiding a file which was to be given to anyone who came looking for Albany. Harry told me that should such a situation occur, it would mean Albany had been compromised. If that happened, I was to act normally and hand it over, but disappear immediately, completely, for three days. After three days, I was to make contact directly with him, and only him."

"Do you know what Albany is? What it does?"

"No."

"Harry didn't tell you what it was intended for?"

"No, he didn't need to. Harry's word is good enough for me."

"Your loyalty is very admirable." There was a slight sneer in Patrick Ward-Stephens' voice. "And when Lucas North visited you recently, he asked you to give him Albany?"

"That's correct. He told me that Harry was being set up and there was evidence leading back to his time in Cologne. Evidence that showed Harry had met with Stasi officers. It was when Lucas said Harry had told him about Albany, and that it could be used as leverage, that I knew there was something wrong."

"You gave him the file?"

"Yes."

"And then?"

"And then I followed the protocols I'd agreed with Harry. I packed up my house and my mother, and took a holiday to Scotland. Three days later I left Mum at a little bed and breakfast in Aberdeen and visited Thames House, where I spoke with Harry. I think you'll find my name in the visitor's book. It was all official."

"Yes. Yes, we've seen the records. You told Sir Harry exactly what happened?"

"Yes."

"Anything else?"

"No, that's all."

"Very well, thank you."

Glancing down at his notes, Edmund Barclay looked at Malcolm over the top of his glasses and asked, "How would you describe the relationship between Sir Harry and Ruth Evershed?"

Malcolm raised his eyebrows, but wasn't entirely surprised. "Harry and Ruth have a great deal of respect for each other. They understand each other implicitly. Harry knows he can rely on Ruth, and Ruth knows what Harry wants done and what information he'll need. They complement each other."

"Nothing else? Nothing physical? No romantic attachment?"

"That's something you'd need to ask them."

"Right now, I'm asking you."

"And as I said, you'd really need to ask them."

They weren't going to get anything else out of Malcolm, he was standing his ground.

* * *

While Malcolm was questioned by the panel, Ruth was questioned by Internal Affairs who had materialised on the grid again that morning. Their time spent with Alec had been brief and was followed by a very long session with Ruth, who had decided to keep her answers as succinct as possible, so as not to provide any unnecessary information.

Campbell and Carmichael had trawled through operation after operation, wanting to know her role in them, what information she contributed, and why Harry made specific decisions. Ruth grew tired and felt like the walls of the room had started closing in on her. She was eager for a glass of water, and only half-heard Campbell's question about Albany.

"What? I'm sorry, could you say that again?"

"I asked whether you thought Harry would have done the same thing if Albany hadn't been a fake?"

Fake. She was speechless.

"Ruth?"

"I, er, I don't know. Probably not … no, no I don't think he would have. Harry always puts the security of the country first."

She was distracted now, and stayed so for what remained of the interview. It was clear to Owen Campbell they wouldn't get much more out of Ruth, and he soon told her she could go.

Tariq heard the meeting room door open and came looking for Ruth, but she had disappeared.

* * *

Harry was pottering around his garden with Scarlet, who was reveling being in his company in the daylight. When his phone rang, he was half-tempted to ignore it, but found old habits hard to break. He took his time though, and reaching it on the twelfth ring, saw Ruth's name on the screen.

"Ruth."

"You bastard."

Not the greeting he'd expected.

"Ruth, what -"

"Albany wasn't real. It couldn't hurt anybody, but you let us think it could. You let _me_ think I might be the cause of millions of people dying."

"Ruth, I'm sorry … Yes, Albany was a fake. Not totally, it still had the potential to be developed, but it wasn't an outright threat."

"Why, Harry? Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't get the chance, Ruth. You walked into my office and told me I shouldn't have done it, and before I knew it, we were interrupted and, well ..."

"You've had almost three weeks since then. That's plenty of time. You could have told me. You _should_ have told me."

"I'm sorry."

Ruth said nothing.

"Would it have made any difference if I had told you?"

She still said nothing. He could hear her controlled breathing and waited a moment before speaking again.

"How did you find out?"

"Bloody Internal Affairs of course."

"Remind me to thank them sometime."

"It's not funny, Harry."

"No, it's not. You've no idea how many times since it happened I've wanted to tell you and just couldn't … I didn't know how to say it. So I'm glad you know. And Ruth, for the record ... I would have found a way to get to you, even if Albany was real. I would have found a way."

There was silence at both ends of the phone.

"I have to go." Ruth finally muttered.

"Yes, so do I."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

Harry stood still until he heard Scarlet scratching at the door.

That night, there was no visit from Jeffrey with a delivery from Ruth. Harry didn't blame her.

* * *

**To be continued.**

**Stay tuned to find out whether Harry has done his dash with Ruth or not****. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Short, much belated chapter. Sorry, but the need to work and sleep left me with little time or inspiration for writing, and this is the result. The final couple of chapters are not far behind :) **

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* * *

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Ruth went home and fumed until she fell asleep, an unread book open on the bed beside her. She spent the next day agonising over what she'd said to Harry. Her anger had dissipated, leaving her feeling numb and confused. Had he lied? Misled her? Inadvertently neglected to tell her? She couldn't fathom why she was so upset.

* * *

At Whitehall, a disillusioned Harry faced questions about his actions leading up to Lucas' death. The panel weren't impressed at his involving a disgraced former officer.

"What did you hope to achieve by drafting in Alec White?"

"I needed to locate Lucas. He was confused and desperate, and we didn't really know who we were dealing with anymore. Alec was from outside Section D and experienced in handling people like that. I needed someone to look at the situation dispassionately and that someone was Alec White."

"You did realise his reputation? Why he was decommissioned?"

"Of course. He may be an alcoholic, who's difficult to work with, but he was one of the best, and I needed the best. Besides, Alec had nothing to lose, and someone like that will do whatever it takes to bring in a rogue officer."

"It wasn't a conscious decision to use someone who was less likely to make you toe the line?"

"No. That was _not_ why I chose Alec." There were skeptical looks from the panel again, and Harry felt his hackles rise. "Look. Section D was understaffed and we had a rogue officer on the run. Alec White was once highly skilled, and I took a gamble that he still would be. It's as simple as that."

"Very well. Let's move on. Lucas North demanded you give him the Albany file for the safe return of Ruth Evershed. Why did you give it to him? Why not find another way?"

"I was calling his bluff. Albany wasn't a threat to anyone. I needed him to tell me where Ruth was. I planned to get her to safety, and retrieve the file before it was passed on."

"But that's not what happened is it?"

"No, as I said earlier, Lucas was desperate and more inventive than expected. He wasn't prepared to release Ruth, and I wasn't prepared to sacrifice her, certainly not for something that wasn't a real danger. As soon as circumstances changed, I phoned the Home Secretary and let him know that I'd handed the file over. I never tried to hide it."

"You were able to locate Miss Evershed though, weren't you?"

"Eventually, yes, but only by tricking Lucas. I ordered the team not to stop him when he arrived to pick up his girlfriend. And I gave Alec specific orders with regard to Maya Lahan. Maya was Lucas' Achilles heel and we used her to get Lucas to reveal Ruth's whereabouts. If she hadn't cooperated, it would have been too late by the time we found Ruth."

"So what happened to Albany?"

"Lucas escaped with Albany and handed it over to the Chinese."

"You let him get away?"

"I didn't _let_ him do anything. He had a fall-back plan and evaded a team of skilled officers."

"And what about the bomb?"

"He phoned and told us he'd planted a bomb at London Bridge station. There was a video, and he said that if I didn't meet him, the bomb would explode."

"Why did he want to meet you?"

"I didn't ask. I assumed it was some kind of revenge. Either that, or he was seeking a sort of redemption."

"So why did you go?"

"I had little choice. He'd asked for me specifically, and the bomb was due to detonate in thirty minutes. I had to try and talk him down."

"It could have been a trap."

"Yes, it could have been, but it wasn't."

"You didn't know that though. You were prepared to die?"

"Yes."

There was silence throughout the room, and then the panel continued to dig.

* * *

The weekend stretched ahead of Harry, who was considering a rare trip out of the city. Perhaps sailing in Norfolk, or just a drive north where he could lose himself on the Yorkshire moors for a couple of days. Anything to get away for a while. He told himself it could be his last chance, depending on the decision that would be handed down soon.

He was surprised when a grinning Jeffrey appeared at the door, and held out a bottle of whisky.

"It is Miss Evershed, isn't it, Jeffrey?" Harry asked as he accepted the bottle.

"Yes, sir." Jeffrey nodded. "I may have inadvertently appraised her of your, er, status the other day, and well ..." He shrugged. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright, there's no need to apologise." As the driver walked away, Harry called out, "Jeffrey?" Jeffrey turned back to look at Harry. "Please tell her thank you for me."

Jeffrey nodded, grinning again. Sir Harry may be able to strike fear into people, but he was also fiercely loyal and protective of his staff. Jeffrey liked him and often chatted or shared a joke with Harry as they traveled between meetings. He knew his boss had a soft spot for Miss Evershed, and vice versa, and was glad putting his foot in it hadn't turned out too badly.

* * *

**Next chapter: Ruth's front and centre and back on form.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you everyone who has so kindly reviewed this story, and sorry I haven't replied individually - I really do appreciate you taking the time to let me know what you think.**

* * *

Harry didn't spend the weekend in Norfolk, or Yorkshire. Instead, he bundled Scarlet into the car and disappeared to Oxford. He walked the canal towpaths with Scarlet scampering ahead of him, and tried to ignore the feeling of dread that rose whenever he thought of what the week ahead might bring.

Following a phone call late on Friday, Ruth spent the weekend in the knowledge that first thing on Monday morning she would face the enquiry panel. She went out for coffee and a movie on Saturday afternoon, having given in to Beth's enticements, but was low on conversation. On Sunday she gathered a pile of her favourite books and bunkered down for the day.

* * *

"Are you in a relationship with Sir Harry Pearce?"

Ruth blanched. She'd known they would ask, but hadn't expected it to be the first question.

"If by in a relationship you mean am I romantically involved with him, then the answer is no."

Edmund Barclay raised his eyebrows in amusement, and watched as Sam Easton decided to take a slightly different tack.

"Have you _ever_ been _romantically involved_ with him?"

Ruth paused, but answered. "We had dinner together once, but that was it."

"Why do you think he was prepared to surrender a state secret, to potentially sacrifice his career, for you?"

"Only Harry could tell you that."

"But why do _you_ think he did it?"

"He …" Ruth was lost for words for a minute, embarrassed. "He's ... he thinks in love with me." She regretted it as soon as she'd blurted it out.

"But you've only been on one date?"

"That's right."

There was some bemusement amongst the panel.

"Are you in love with him?"

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"Miss Evershed, I rather think it's too late for being coy, don't you?"

"No." She was hardly going to talk to them about it, when she hadn't even talked to Harry.

"Miss Evershed, I would remind you that this is an official hearing and that you are obliged to comply with any requests."

"I understand, but I don't see how my answering that particular question is going to change anything, or how it could help you make any kind of decision. I'm sorry, but I have nothing further to say."

Martin Cuthbert narrowed his eyes slightly, but decided to move on.

"What, in your opinion, are Sir Harry's strengths and weaknesses?"

"Strengths and weaknesses? … Harry's confident without being arrogant. He considers all the facts, determines the options, and makes a decision. Although he cares for his team, he tends to lock himself away and make it difficult for anyone to get to know him, but I think that's because he feels he needs to in order to do his job. He can be stubborn and single-minded, but that's necessary in this line of work."

"I sense a bit of frustration in your assessment."

"I don't think so."

"Could you give us an example of Sir Harry's decision-making in action?"

A tiny frown of concentration took hold of Ruth's forehead as she mentally picked through her memories of Harry. She settled on a recent one.

"Harry's role is to provide strategic direction, and operational decisions are usually left to his Section Chief, but he's not afraid to be hands-on, and it's often necessary for him to make very difficult decisions. The kind most people could never imagine. Several months ago we thwarted an Al Qaeda plot to bomb the Houses of Parliament. Explosives were loaded on submersibles traveling up the Thames and the only way to stop them was to detonate an EMP bomb. It would destroy the explosives, but also interfere with numerous navigation systems, medical equipment, phone signals ... Harry was the one who had to make that call. He had to weigh up the options and choose between allowing a terrorist bomb to explode in central London, or causing the malfunction of essential systems which could result in the deaths of many people. The explosives were stopped, but nine people still died."

Without realising it, Ruth continued to speak at length for over an hour, extolling Harry's virtues as Section Head. Her accounts of the Havensworth conference, Shining Dawn's bombing campaign, Operation Songbird, and a long ago EERIE exercise, were only periodically interrupted by members of the panel with questions for clarification.

Eventually, they were satisfied they'd heard enough.

"Hmm. One final question, Miss Evershed ... What would you have done if you had been in Harry's position? Would you have forfeited a state secret?"

Ruth was silent as she considered her response.

"I don't know. I don't think any of us can know what we'd do if faced with a situation like that. Or any situation. We can theorise all we want, but when it comes down to it, the only decision that matters is the one we make when it counts. Harry knew Albany wasn't a real threat, and calculated that it was worth the risk. He chose to save one of his officers, to save me, and whether you like it or not, whether you agree with it or not, he did." She drew breath, knowing she'd more than answered their question, but carried on. "Harry is good at his job. He's the best at his job. That's why he was given it, because he was trusted to make the right decisions. You can't trust him and then change your mind because you disagree with his choices ... People do extraordinary things when faced with extraordinary situations. That should be acknowledged, celebrated even, not condemned."

Ruth stopped, realising what she'd said. She had condemned Harry for what he did, and yet here she sat telling the panel they shouldn't do the same.

"Yes, well, thank you for your insight, Miss Evershed. We have no further questions for you, so you may go."

* * *

Ruth left the room, quietly pulling the door closed behind her. As she did, she saw Harry standing in the corridor. He had his back to her and was looking out the window, but turned when he heard the click of the lock.

Ruth walked toward him, and as she got closer, realised how tired he must be. There were dark shadows under his eyes and she wondered if he was sleeping at all.

"Hello, Harry." She smiled nervously.

He gazed at her, saying nothing.

"I'm ... I'm sorry for snapping at you the other day. And for not thanking you … for rescuing me. I never thanked you for that, not properly."

Harry sighed with relief, grateful she did appear to have forgiven him. "Thank you for the food," He said with a knowing look. "The way it's kept appearing … anyone would think I was starving, or incapable of cooking for myself."

Ruth half-smiled. "I hope you've been eating it. I'd hate think it was going to waste."

"Of course. There was really no need, but thank you … it's very good. I'm not sure you should be using Jeffrey as a delivery boy though."

"You don't need to worry about Jeffrey. He wanted to help. He likes you, you know."

He finally gave her a smile, and they stood in silence for a bit, until Harry tilted his head, indicating the room she'd exited. "You alright?" He asked softly.

"Mmm."

"Ruth -" The door opening prevented him from saying anything else.

"Sir Harry? We're ready for you now."

Harry smiled wanly at Ruth, and she watched him walk away, wishing they'd had more time to talk.

* * *

**More soon.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry about the delay in posting. I've been sitting on the final two chapters as I wasn't totally happy with them, and felt they needed some work.  
**

* * *

When Harry entered the room, the panel members were reading through their papers, which gave him a couple of minutes to settle himself. Then he watched them, trying to read their faces.

Martin Cuthbert spoke to Jacinta Lacey, looked at the others, ascertaining their readiness, then got down to business.

"Sir Harry, you've clashed with your peers in the past, and we're well aware you have been known to work outside the system. We acknowledge sometimes that approach is required, and for the most part, such strategies have stood you in good stead. But when it comes to Lucas North, and Albany, your actions left much to be desired. We've already heard from you about those events. Do you have anything else you'd like to say in this matter?"

"No. I believe I've covered everything."

"What about the risks you were prepared to take? This isn't the first time you've been willing to sacrifice yourself for Ruth Evershed, is it?"

Harry decided to play dumb and treat that as a rhetorical question.

"Sir Harry? What about Cotterdam? You were arrested for attacking Oliver Mace, apparently in some misguided attempt to rescue Miss Evershed."

"Oliver Mace was a self-serving megalomaniac on a witch hunt."

"You physically attacked him. Why?"

"I lost my temper. He was threatening both me, and a member of my team."

"Sir Harry, what is the status of your relationship with Ruth Evershed?" Sam Easton took delight in being able to ask the question.

"Ruth is the Senior Analyst for Section D. I've known her a long time and we generally have a very good working relationship."

"This is the woman you were willing to save by handing over a state secret." Martin Cuthbert coughed nervously, clearing his throat, before continuing. "Are you in love with her?"

"I ..." Harry stopped. He hadn't thought they would be quite so to the point. There was only one answer he could give. "Yes."

The panel looked moderately shocked at his candour and Martin Cuthbert probed further, looking uncomfortable. "Harry, don't you think that's rather unwise?"

"We can't help who we fall in love with, Martin." Harry said softly.

"No, well … what I mean is, don't you think you should have done something about it before it became a problem?"

"Life's complicated, even at the best of times. You all know that in this business it can be damn near impossible to have a life. Impossible to balance the personal and professional. If I could have my time over again, I might do things differently." He took a breath. _Starting with being more persistent._ "But it's too late for that."

The entire panel appeared unsure how to respond.

Eventually, Jacinta Lacey picked up a piece of paper and looked down at it as she spoke. "How do you get on with the Home Secretary?"

"We don't always see eye to eye, but we have a generally congenial relationship. It's not dissimilar to that which I shared with his predecessors."

"This morning we received a statement from the Home Secretary." Harry tensed, uncertain what to expect. He wasn't convinced of the Home Secretary's confidence in him. Not anymore. "He's been surprisingly candid. He's mentioned your tendency to, on occasion, act rather impulsively. Do you have anything you'd like to say in response to that?"

"No, thank you."

The Home Secretary had, in fact, written in support of Harry. _I don't condone his actions in this affair, however, I cannot deny the exemplary service he has provided to this country over a long period of time. In the few months I have known him, Sir Harry has demonstrated an unequivocal loyalty and commitment to protecting the country's interests. I should not like to lose him._ Harry was not to hear those words though.

"Very well." Martin Cuthbert resumed control of the interview. "Thank you, Sir Harry. I think we have asked all the necessary questions. You're free to go. You'll be contacted when a decision has been made."

Dismissed, Harry stood, buttoning his jacket, and moved to the door, but turned back to face them when Martin Cuthbert called out to him.

"Harry … fake or not, you gave away a state secret. It's a serious offence. One that cannot be ignored. Why should we recommend you be allowed to remain at MI5?"

His mouth suddenly dry, Harry licked his lips, taking his time to answer.

"I've spent thirty-four years serving my country, and serving it well. I've protected statesmen and bamboozled terrorists. I've been kidnapped, tortured, and shot at more times than I care to remember. In all that time, through everything I've done, the well-being of this country has been at the forefront of my decisions. It's been number one, and it's what cost me my family. Three weeks ago I made the only decision I could have. I made it knowing Albany wasn't a real threat. For once in my life I thought with my head _and_ my heart, and I don't regret it. I _can't_ regret it." Harry took a deep breath. "If you don't think I'm capable any more, or you think there's someone else who can do the job better, then you should say so. But you know you can't do any better. I've always had the respect and loyalty of my team, and I've put the best interests of this country first for a long time. If you let me, I'll continue to do so. _That's_ why you should recommend I stay."

With a resolute expression, Harry looked at each of the panel members in turn, making eye contact with them. He could hear the blood pounding like a train in his ears, echoing the feeling in his chest. He swallowed, turned, opened the door, and walked out.

* * *

**The final chapter will** **be up tomorrow.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you for the great comments about the last chapter, particularly about Harry's "speech." It was a bit difficult to know how far to push it, so I'm really pleased you felt it worked. Hopefully this final chapter works just as well.**

* * *

Jeffrey arrived on Harry's doorstep just after seven that evening, and as he made to leave, Harry waved a hand at him to stop. "Jeffrey? Come inside for a minute would you?"

Jeffrey nodded and crossed the threshold into Harry's house.

"I have something for Miss Evershed. To say thank you." He walked over to the hall table and picked up a bottle of white burgundy and a gift-wrapped parcel. "I'd very much like her to get it tonight if possible. Would you mind?"

"No, sir. Of course not. It's on my way home. It won't take long."

"Thank you. I really appreciate it." Harry smiled.

"I, er … good luck luck, sir. With the enquiry and all. You don't deserve all this."

"Thank you for your confidence. It's good to know someone still believes in me."

"Of course, sir. I'm not the only one. You'll see."

* * *

Ruth was pouring hot water from the kettle into a mug when she heard the doorbell.

When she opened the door and discovered the identity of her visitor, her look of surprise was unmistakeable. "Jeffrey? What are you … what's happened?"

"Evening, miss. There's nothing wrong, miss. I've, er, just got something for you." Jeffrey held out the bottle of wine and glossily-wrapped parcel, and Ruth took them. "From Sir Harry."

"From Harry?"

"Yes, miss."

"Er, thank you. When did … no, it doesn't matter. Thank you, Jeffrey."

"You're welcome. Evening, Miss Evershed." He smiled goodbye and left Ruth standing on the doorstep, looking a little dazed. Realising she was standing in the cold and staring into space, Ruth closed the door and returned to the kitchen.

She put the wine down on the bench, and plonked herself onto a stool where she sat staring at the bottle. There was no note, but she didn't need an explanation. After a few minutes, Ruth remembered the parcel in her hands and turned it over, looking for a clue as to what it contained. There was nothing, so she turned her attention to unwrapping it, and hidden beneath the red paper found a DVD. The picture on the cover was achingly familiar to Ruth, and the words on the back swam before her eyes: _A young ballet dancer is torn between love and her career. _She felt a tightening in her chest. _Torn between love and her career_.

Walking into her darkened living room, she turned on the TV and put the DVD in the player. She sat down without switching on the light, and pressed play. Ruth watched _The Red Shoes _for the first time in four years, and she cried.

* * *

The next day, work at Thames House began as usual, but just before lunch the team was distracted when Tariq discovered the enquiry had wrapped yesterday, and a decision about Harry's fate was imminent.

By mid-afternoon, all they'd been able to discover was that the panel had convened to hand down their findings. Harry hadn't appeared on the grid, and there had been no phone calls. They tried ringing the DG's office as well as various contacts in the Services, but to no avail. Harry wasn't answering his phone, and they had no idea what had happened.

Dimitri sat in front of his computer frowning, and Tariq looked nervous and unsure whether he should be doing something about the situation. "If it's not good news … what do we do?"

Alec made a face. "Whatever happens, you do your job, and do it well. That's what Harry would expect isn't it?"

Ruth abruptly stood up, grabbed her coat, and headed for the door, ignoring the questions that followed her. She'd had enough of waiting. Harry had to be somewhere, and she was going to find him.

* * *

Harry stood, head bowed and eyes closed, leaning on the wall that ran along the Thames. He took a deep breath, opening his eyes to look out across the river.

_What the hell am I thinking? It's bloody absurd_. But there was no alternative. Not if he wanted to keep his job. That was the question, though. Did he want to keep it or not? He'd spoken passionately at the hearing and still believed it was important, but he wasn't sure he wanted to do it anymore, or whether he could.

The breeze picked up. As he pulled his coat closer, he felt someone behind him and turned to find Ruth standing there.

"Harry?" Ruth spoke gently. "How long have you been here?"

"A while."

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"We were worried. We knew they must have made a decision, but when we didn't hear anything, we thought ... We were worried about you."

Harry's mouth flickered at the edges. "I'm fine."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I've been handed a lifeline, though I'm not sure it's much of one."

"Harry?" She had to prompt him to continue. "What did they say?"

Harry turned to face her.

"I'm to remain with MI5, under certain conditions. Basically, I'm on probation. Indefinitely. Any cock-ups and I'm gone. Before that though, I've been ordered to take a month's leave and _get some perspective_. When I return, I'm expected to meet with the DG every week until further notice to discuss my approach to operational strategies." The words were laced with sarcasm. "It was either that or retirement."

"No suspension? They're not going to transfer you or anything?"

"No."

"Nothing else?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"Yes, of course. I just mean … well, I know it's not the perfect outcome, but it's a lot better than I thought it would be. It's better than you thought too, isn't it?"

"I expected worse." He paused. "But this business requires a degree of mystery. You know that. I'm not sure I can have it any longer, not after everything they know now."

"Was it really that bad?"

"What? Raking through my entire career, every decision I've ever made? Dissecting my professional and personal failures? I've never felt so exposed." He shook his head. "It's just … oh, I don't know, Ruth. I really don't know." He rubbed at his forehead.

Ruth watched him for a moment. He looked a million miles away.

"Come on." She offered Harry her hand, and it trembled slightly as he stared at her.

"What are you doing, Ruth?"

"I have a very good, unopened bottle of wine sitting at home. I think it deserves to be drunk, don't you?"

* * *

**Yes, this is the end. I'm leaving it as the Spooks writers probably would - kind of ambiguous. Make of it what you will, but I hope you enjoyed it. **

**Thanks for reading, and for all the lovely comments.**


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